


Sun, Sand and Sea

by Metal_Ox137



Series: Doctor Who Companions: The Library of Time [4]
Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-29
Updated: 2021-02-03
Packaged: 2021-03-15 02:22:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,269
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29056632
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Metal_Ox137/pseuds/Metal_Ox137
Summary: On their honeymoon in Ibiza, Clara and Ashildr try their first experiments in heating up, slowing down, finding the best ratio of fruit to alcohol in a smoothie, and seeking the perfect tan.
Relationships: Ashildr | Lady Me/Clara Oswin Oswald
Series: Doctor Who Companions: The Library of Time [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2090514
Kudos: 4





	1. Chapter 1

The bungalow stood on a high, craggy bluff, overlooking the ocean. The weatherbeaten exterior suggested a lifetime of hard use. A small white-and-yellow taxicab puttered up to the top of the steep hill and parked along the narrow street, just outside the front entrance. Clara Oswald looked out the taxicab window and grinned broadly.

“Here we are.”

Stepping out of the cab, she walked up to the front door. A moment later, another woman, shorter and seemingly younger than Clara, followed her out. Clara put a large key in the lock. The key was ancient, and heavy, made of iron, and resembled a skeleton key more than anything else. The mortices protested audibly as the lock turned. The large wooden door opened on creaking hinges. Clara gestured grandly to her companion.

“Well, after you,” she invited her.

Ashildr gave Clara a mischievous smile. “Shouldn’t one of us be carrying the other across the threshold?”

“Sure, go ahead, carry me,” Clara deadpanned, but then she grinned. “I honestly don’t know what the tradition is, for two brides.”

“We could just step through together,” Ashildr suggested.

The two women had married the day before, 48 years into the future; but at the moment, neither was wearing any sort of traditional bridal attire. In deference to the new warm climate they’d arrived in, Ashildr wore a light, brightly-colored sun frock and sandals, while Clara wore a daringly sheer red dress with a floral print, along with sandals, sunglasses and a wide-brimmed hat. The only visible sign declaring the change in their marital status was a brand new pair of wedding rings on their fingers.

Clara signaled to the driver that the door was open, and he waved back, and began retrieving luggage from the boot of the taxi. Clara and Ashildr stepped into a large, open room, its far wall consisting of paned windows, floor to ceiling, with a sliding glass door leading out onto a wide patio. The sunlight was so bright, the interior of the bungalow appeared to be in deep shadow, even though it was reasonably well lit. There was a long couch, two upholstered chairs, a fireplace; a small kitchen with a breakfast nook off to the left, and a breathtakingly narrow stairwell leading to the upstairs rooms. The interior walls were brightly painted, and the floors were smooth, flat stone. Despite the heat, it was noticeably and agreeably cooler inside.

As Clara waited by the entrance to pay the taxi driver, Ashildr opened the patio door, and stepped out into the bright heat of the day. She had to squint against the brightness of the sun, giving her another not so subtle reminder to find her sunglasses as soon as possible. It was only mid-morning, but already the air was oppressively hot; fortunately, there was a cool breeze coming off the water. As promised, the bungalow had an ocean view. That view was partly obstructed by some tall trees to the left, but the right side had a clear view of the water and the curve of the coastline beyond. Ashildr took careful note, the patio wasn’t visible from any of the neighboring buildings. Only the sun could see them. Perfect for nude sunbathing, one of the items on Ashildr’s short list for this trip. There were two lounge chairs, as well as a small patio table with a sun umbrella, although the umbrella was currently closed and laid carefully along the edge of the house. 

Ashildr stepped back inside. She could hear Clara just outside the front door, chatting in a friendly way with the taxi driver. She was asking him about the best restaurants in town. It was odd. The TARDIS had a telepathic circuit that allowed the two of them to converse in any local language; they could understand the native speakers, and the native speakers could understand them. And yet, Ashildr knew, somehow, this wasn’t her own language. She was now speaking and thinking in some variant of Spanish, and she was aware of the subtle difference in her thought patterns that a different language placed on her mind. She was grateful she didn’t have to stumble through a foreign language on her own abilities, that would be painful indeed. But sometimes, it was unsettling to realize the extent to which the TARDIS was poking around inside her head, and what kind of manipulations must be going on in there. 

Along with their luggage, the taxi driver had already brought in Ashildr’s free-standing chalkboard, which Ashildr had included amongst her “necessary items” from the TARDIS, and it was now standing in one corner of the living room. Gleefully, Ashildr hurried to the kitchen, found a towel in one of the drawers, and wetted it at the kitchen sink. She carefully wiped down the board, and by the time she had rinsed and wrung out the towel, the board was already dry. Ashildr took out her chalk and began to write, with great single-mindedness of purpose. 

“For the next 60 days”, she wrote across the top, leaving a wide space around the number “60”, as she planned to reduce the number by one each morning. Then she painstakingly wrote out her goals for the trip:

_1) Swim naked in the ocean._  
_2) Get the perfect tan. (Naked.)_  
_3) Eat._  
_4) Drink._  
_5) Fuck._  
_6) Sleep._  
_7) Stay naked AOAP (as often as possible)._

To that last, Ashildr thought a moment, and then added sternly, “This means YOU, Clara”, in large block letters. 

After a few moments, Clara re-entered the bungalow and shut the massive front door behind her. 

“Well?” she asked. “Is everything to your satisfaction?”

“I haven’t even looked around yet,” Ashildr protested.

Clara set her purse on one of the chairs. She’d only been standing in the sun for a few moments, but she was already perspiring freely; the light fabric of her summer dress clung to her skin in very insistent and obvious ways, leaving the curves of her belly and breasts as clearly defined as if she wore nothing at all. Her long dark hair was quickly plastering itself to the sides of her neck. She regarded the chalkboard dubiously.

“Did you really need to bring that thing?” she asked. “You’ve got your notebook and a new diary, right? Isn’t that enough?”

“It’s just some positive reinforcement,” Ashildr answered. “I want to be as Zen-like as possible for this trip. No thinking. No analyzing. No unnecessary talking. I just want to exist. Get in touch with my inner animal. Be instinctual.”

In apparent demonstration of that resolve, Ashildr pulled Clara close, and kissed her ardently on the lips. They were both aware of the sweat practically gluing their warm bodies together. 

“You really are a horny little thing, aren’t you,” Clara teased mildly. “I had no idea.”

Ashildr responded with a second kiss, even more ardent than the first. But when she looked up into Clara’s smiling face, her eyes were wide - and quite sober.

“It’s been a very long time since I let anyone into my heart,” she said softly. “You know I trust you completely. But... it still scares me a little.”

She held up her right hand, and gazed in evident wonderment at the simple gold band on her finger. “I never expected to experience anything like this ever again.”

“Well, welcome to your marriage, Mrs. Oswald,” Clara declared solemnly, kissing her back.

* * * 

Shortly before their wedding, Clara and Ashildr had paused long enough in their travels to consider the potentially thorny issue of surnames. But as it turned out, there was no issue at all.

“You convinced me to start using my birth name again,” Ashildr pointed out. “And I would be happy to take your family name. If you’re okay with that.”

“Absolutely,” Clara smiled, and then her expression sombered. “I need to ask you something serious.”

“Sure, what is it?”

“Well... in all this time, we’ve never gone back to visit your family. And you’ve never once mentioned it. Is that something you ever want to do?”

Ashildr sat down, seriously considering the question. “I guess I feel that my family’s gone now,” she said finally. “And revisiting them wouldn’t change that. It would be too much like seeing ghosts.” She smiled sadly. “I wouldn’t mind meeting your family, though.”

Clara nodded thoughtfully. 

“Your family... they’re still around... aren’t they?” Ashildr asked, somewhat anxiously.

“My mum’s gone. My dad’s still alive,” Clara answered.

“Any brothers, sisters?”

Clara shook her head. “Only child.” She seemed suddenly distracted. “I guess I really should go see my dad, you know, before I...” she faltered abruptly on the words. “Well, before I finish ...dying.”

Clara had just realized that since that horrible day on the trap street, she’d not once thought of her father, who by now must surely know she had died - or at least, at some point in a contemporaneous timeline, had learned about her death. Although this was a dilemma easily circumvented by time travel, that awareness still hit Clara like a hard punch to the face.

“As soon as our honeymoon is over, we can go visit your dad,” Ashildr suggested.

Clara found herself wiping away tears. “Yeah,” she agreed. “Yeah, I would like that. I’d like that very much.”

“What’s your dad like?” Ashildr asked. “And I guess what I’m really asking is... will he mind if you bring home a wife, instead of a husband?”

Clara smiled tearfully. “Oh. No. Dad won’t mind at all. He’ll be so pleased I’m finally with someone. You’ll like him, I promise. And he will _adore_ you.”

“Good. I can’t wait to meet him.”

“We just need to make sure we visit him before I... well. You know.”

“We have a time machine,” Ashildr declared solemnly. “I’m sure we can figure it out.”

* * * 

Clara found herself staring at Ashildr’s chalkboard, lost in reverie, and, realizing she had been doing that for some time while Ashildr was waiting patiently, she came to with a start.

“Sorry!” she apologized. “Sorry. I just... I was having a moment.”

“I could see that,” Ashildr answered sympathetically. Her smile was sad and knowing. “You were missing your family.”

“Yeah. I was,” Clara admitted. “How’d you know?”

Again, the sad smile. “I know the look,” Ashildr answered simply. 

Clara gave Ashildr another butterfly kiss on the lips, and smiled tenderly at her. 

“I love you very much, you do know that, right?”

“Love you more,” Ashildr bantered, with a smile.

“Love you most,” Clara answered back.

“Come on,” she coaxed, as much for herself as Ashildr. “This is home for the next two months. Let’s have a look ‘round.”

The bungalow was quite small, in retrospect. The two upstairs bedrooms were tiny - and disappointingly, each only had a twin size bed, which barely fit into the room. The full bath was likewise small - a tub, a toilet and a sink had been compressed into the tiniest space possible. While there were windows that opened to let in cooler air, it was oppressively hot upstairs, almost like baking in an oven. 

“No air conditioning?” Ashildr asked.

“It exists in this time period,” Clara said. “But it’s not in widespread use. And not in this region of the world, certainly.”

“When are we, again?”

“Ibiza, Spain, July, 1972. Ibiza has long been a holiday destination, but around this time, a lot of young people started flocking to the islands, like never before. It will be a lot easier for us to blend in with the other tourists.”

“Because you’re only a hundred years old, and I’m almost a thousand,” Ashildr deadpanned.

“Well...” Clara smiled. “Let’s just be thankful we’re aging so gracefully.” 

They could barely turn around in the narrow hallway at the top of the stairwell. “We could just bring the mattresses downstairs, and sleep on the floor in the great room,” Clara suggested. “It’s got to be cooler than roasting up here.”

“Agreed.”

When they came back downstairs, Ashildr returned to the chalkboard and quickly wrote in the upper right corner, “Ibiza, Spain, 1972”.

She turned to see Clara watching her, and she smiled ruefully. “Just for a couple of days,” she disclaimed. “Until it sinks in.”

When Clara turned away, Ashildr surreptitiously knelt down and added one more line to the bottom of her list:

_“8) Meet my father-in-law (day 0).”_

Next to that line, she quickly drew a heart in red chalk. 

The kitchen had been stocked before their arrival, so not only were plates and silverware available in the cabinets, there were also a few basic cooking utensils, and the small refrigerator contained some fresh milk, butter and cream. The pantry had several bottles of wine, mostly Pinot and Cabernets. Two large bowls on the counter were filled some hand-picked fruits and vegetables, along with a large baguette in a paper sack. Clara gave the bread a gentle squeeze. It was still soft.

“This will tide us over until morning,” she decided.

“We can’t go to the market today?” Ashildr asked.

Clara shook her head. “The driver told me the markets open early, and close around noon. It just gets too hot in the afternoons. And most of the restaurants won’t open until almost dusk. Meals are fashionably late here. It’s not uncommon to dine at nine or even ten in the evening.”

“Well, in that case...” Ashildr began to undo the buttons on the front of Clara’s dress.

“Ashildr, what are you doing?”

“I’m undressing you,” she answered, matter-of-factly. 

“Oh, are you, now? Does that mean I get to undress you, too?”

“Yes,” Ashildr answered. “Rule seven. If we’re not going out, then, no clothes. Also, rule five. We’re not going swimming, we’re not stuffing our faces, we’re not taking a nap. That means we fuck.”

“You’ve got this all planned out, haven’t you?”

“We are newlyweds,” Ashildr reminded her. “We’re supposed to be having sex at the drop of a hat. Or any other article of clothing.”

“That’s definitely a tradition we should stick with,” Clara agreed, kissing Ashildr passionately.

* * * 

The afternoon passed in strict adherence to Ashildr’s rules. They made love, they napped, they sunned themselves naked on the patio in the late afternoon. Clara had long ago accepted some of her lover’s more idiosyncratic traits; after a lifetime spanning a thousand years, she decided, anyone would be likely to pick up an eccentric tic or two. Ashildr’s behavior was strikingly similar to high-functioning autism, although Clara forbade herself to consider applying that diagnosis. Humans weren’t designed to live for hundreds or even thousands of years; Ashildr was coping as best she could. And for someone who had great difficulty remembering anything from one day to the next, the obvious coping mechanism was to structure one’s life to make it easier to remember things - or at least make the remembrance less critical for day-to-day functioning.

They both decided for the first night to remain in the bungalow, rather than venture into town; and Clara cut up some of the fruit and slices of bread for an impromptu meal. Given the oppressive heat, neither of them wanted a heavy dinner anyway. They found an appropriate bottle of wine and deliberately passed the bottle back and forth between them, rather than use glasses; their life was shared now, and so would be everything else. They reclined in the lounge chairs on the patio, still naked, licking the sweet juice from fresh pineapple and cantaloupe from their fingers. 

“So, you do think you can tolerate our lodgings for the next two months?” Clara asked.

“I wish the bathtub was bigger,” Ashildr admitted. “I was kind of hoping to take lots of baths with you. But it’s so small, I can barely fit in there by myself. And I’m tiny.”

“It is disappointing,” Clara agreed. “But overall, I quite like it. The view is as good as advertised. And it’s literally just a walk down the hill into downtown, to the shops and restaurants. I’ll bet tonight we hear music from the clubs, all the way up here.”

“Maybe we can find a deserted beach somewhere, and have sex in the surf,” Ashildr mused wistfully.

Clara laughed heartily. “You have a one-track mind,” she declared. 

“I do not,” Ashildr protested. “I’m planning to get drunk, too. And for me, that’s an undertaking.”

“Tell you what,” Clara suggested. “While we’re here, our side project can be to design our new bedroom suite inside the TARDIS. And we’ll be sure to include a deep, walk-in tub for the bathroom, big enough for both of us to share. Yeah?”

“Sounds great. But as a thief with centuries of experience, let me just remind you that the most successful crimes are those which simply take advantage of the opportunity,” Ashildr answered. “We’re on an island with plenty of beaches. They can’t be thronged with people every single moment. I will be looking for opportunities. And I won’t even need to write that one down,” she vowed.

“That’s fair,” Clara agreed, laughing again. “If we wake up early enough tomorrow, let’s visit the docks first. We can talk to the fishermen, and the men who run the tourist boats. I’m sure they can help us find the best secluded beaches - or the safest places to take a dip in the ocean, away from shore.”

Shortly after the sun went down, the newlyweds brought the mattresses downstairs and assembled a makeshift bed in the great room. The heat was sweltering, and Clara lay several bath towels over the bedding to soak up excess sweat. Fortunately, a gentle breeze was starting to pick up and push its way in through the windows and the open patio door, hinting at a cooler night ahead. Off in the distance, the roar of the surf could easily be heard, slow and steady as a heartbeat. And growing slightly louder - the tide was evidently coming in.

As they had agreed on previously, Clara decided to read for a while, so that Ashildr could catch up on her writing in her notebook and her diary. Clara glanced up from her book now and then, to see Ashildr sprawled naked on the couch, laying on her stomach, scribbling away furiously. Clara hadn’t realized the great lengths Ashildr had to go to every single day, simply to provide herself with a working continuity of her own life. Even though they had traveled together for almost a hundred years, Ashildr had done most of this work in the privacy of her own suite, long after Clara had gone to bed. Clara regarded her wife with new sympathy. Ashildr’s life was incredibly hard, in many ways. So much of her daily memory was a complete vacuum. Yet she never once complained, and always seemed to great each new day with complete equanimity, if not outright joy. She truly was a remarkable woman, and not just for having a prolonged life. Ashildr possessed a strength of character that Clara herself envied. She decided she had married very well, indeed.

After some time, Ashildr finally closed up her notebook and her diary, and gave Clara a grateful smile. 

“Thank you. I needed that time,” she admitted. “Trust me, it will be a lot easier for us both if I do my ‘homework’ every night before bed.”

“Quite all right,” Clara assured her. “Now I have some time I can block out for reading every night, so it works out perfectly.”

“What are you reading? Jane Austen again?”

Clara made a face. “There was no way I was going to do that to you,” she declared. “Not on our honeymoon. No, it’s ‘Middlemarch’. Mary Anne Evans, aka George Eliot. This had been on my reading list for some time, never had a chance before now.”

“You know I don’t get jealous,” Ashildr said, getting up off the couch and joining Clara on the mattress. “You can read Jane’s novels every night, for all I care.”

“That’s gracious of you,” Clara allowed. “But that would be incredibly tasteless on my part. I think I can leave Jane on the shelf for the time being.”

Ashildr gave Clara a wicked grin. “Maybe we could visit her sometime, and have a threesome.”

“Not going there,” Clara declared firmly. 

It was still rare for Ashildr to laugh, but laugh she did, a soft, low, delightful sound. “You want to read awhile longer?”

“Not unless you want to do something else.” Clara gave her a knowing smile.

“Actually, if you don’t mind, I think I’ll turn in,” Ashildr admitted. “I’m almost a thousand years old. I _need_ my sleep. Expect me to invoke rule six a lot, the next two months.”

“Sleeping and napping, you mean? You won’t get any arguments from me.”

“If you want to read some more, go ahead. The light won’t bother me.”

“You’re sure?”

“I’m sure,” Ashildr promised. “One favor, though? When you’re done, spoon me?”

“Absolutely.”

“Okay, then.” Ashildr leaned in and left a light kiss on Clara’s lips. “See you in the morning. Mrs. Oswald.”

Ashildr rolled onto her side, and curled herself up into a tight little ball, practically in a fetal position. She sighed happily, and a few moments later, her breathing was deep and regular. Ashildr’s languor was so contagious that Clara decided she could put off the next chapter of “Middlemarch” until tomorrow. She closed the book, sat up long enough to put out the lamp, then snuggled close to Ashildr, pulling a light sheet up over them both.

“Tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow,” she murmured softly to herself, and moments later, she too was fast asleep.


	2. Chapter 2

Clara awoke to the faint roar of ocean surf and the ululations of birdsong. She didn’t open her eyes for several moments, letting the ambient sound lull her at that nebulous shoreline between dreaming and waking. After a few moments, however, Clara’s body began to restart itself, beginning with a deep intake of breath - her respiratory system kicking in again. Even though her body no longer needed to do such things, the habits remained. Clara was grateful. It was a continual reminder that she was, in some sense, still alive.

She opened her eyes. Ashildr was sleeping beside her, facing her, mouth slightly agape, breathing deep and regular, insensate to the world. Clara watched her for a time. She loved to watch Ashildr sleeping. Ashildr had the most lovely face, and to see her so tranquil was like a balm for her heart. Clara was also very much aware that this was the calm before the storm. Ashildr normally returned to the waking world in a state of great agitation. Some time during the night, nearly all of her recollections of the previous day would have ebbed away, and she would awake confused, disoriented, sometimes even frightened - the cruel curse of a virtually immortal lifespan and a finite memory. 

Sure enough, the expected pattern repeated itself. Ashildr began to stir, as her autonomic systems came back online, and she sat up abruptly, looking around her. It was obvious she had no idea where she was. She looked around the room in complete bewilderment, blinking the sleep from her eyes.

Clara knew well enough by now, to react as little as possible. Frequently, Ashildr would settle down on her own, as long as nothing else agitated her. Ashildr glanced over to see Clara laying beside her. Clara was careful to do nothing more than give her a reassuring smile. 

Ashildr was suddenly aware that she was naked, and while she was never bashful about such things, she obviously had the expectation she would be wearing clothing of some sort. She stared at the wedding ring on her finger for several seconds, as if she’d never seen it before. She looked up, saw her chalkboard, and squinted in puzzlement as she read what she had written there. She began to look around her, evidently searching for something. Finding her small notebook, she seized it and almost frantically turned the pages until she found the most recent entry, reading the words intently. After she’d read it, she closed her eyes, and lay back down. A single tear trickled down her cheek. 

Clara decided she would risk some minimal interaction. “Hey, come here, you,” she coaxed in a soft voice, raising her arm slightly. “Let me hold you, until you’re properly awake, yeah?”

After a moment’s hesitation, Ashildr quickly burrowed into Clara’s embrace, allowing Clara to spoon her. Clara draped one arm over Ashildr protectively, and Ashildr clasped Clara’s hand, entwining their fingers. After a moment, Ashildr’s body relaxed, and she began to breathe normally again. 

_Oh, that’s better,_ Clara thought to herself. She left a light kiss on Ashildr’s shoulder blade, then settled herself down to wait. Sometimes, Ashildr would fall asleep for a few minutes, and awake again more settled. Other times, she would remain awake, and the brain fog would eventually lift as she became more active. 

This particular morning, Ashildr didn’t seem inclined to go back to sleep. After a couple of minutes, she rolled over so she was facing Clara, and pushed her face into Clara’s chest, nuzzling her cheek against Clara’s breasts. Clara felt immense relief. This was a good sign. If nothing else, Ashildr had remembered they were now lovers on her own. The intimacy of their relationship was starting to penetrate Ashildr’s long-term memories, the ones she was able to retain. Clara began to stroke Ashildr’s hair, and gently rub her back between her shoulder blades. Ashildr sighed with contentment. Another very good sign.

There was a good chance Ashildr had no memory of getting married. She would have told herself about it in her notebook, of course. And a more detailed recollection would be written out in Ashildr’s diary. But the event itself was probably gone from her mind. No wonder she insisted on having it filmed, so she could re-visit the event later. And she probably didn’t remember arriving in Ibiza yesterday, either. Fortunately, they had planned to spend the entire summer in one place as an experiment: could they sit still for more than a day or two, without going stark raving mad? And from Clara’s perspective, she was hoping a less frantic pace to their travels would help Ashildr establish a less fractured continuity in her day-to-day life. If this worked, they might even try settling down somewhere, with the intent to stay in one place for an extended period of time - possibly years.

Ashildr pushed away just enough so that she and Clara could lay side by side, and look into each other’s eyes. 

“Good morning,” Clara murmured, giving her a sleepy smile. 

“Morning,” Ashildr whispered back. “So... married, huh?”

“Yup. Got the whole thing on video. You can watch it whenever and wherever you want.”

“We’re on our honeymoon? House by the sea?”

“Got here yesterday.”

“Why are we sleeping on the floor?”

“It was too hot upstairs in the bedrooms. Besides, each room only had a twin size bed.”

“Ahh.”

Ashildr lifted her head for a moment, looking towards the patio door. A gentle breeze was coming in from outside. The air was still cool, but warming rapidly - although from the point of view of the floor, all Ashildr could see was a few of the stones of the patio wall. She could hear the ocean, but couldn’t see it.

“My notebook didn’t say anything about us going into town.”

“We haven’t been yet,” Clara told her. “We decided to get drunk and fuck instead.”

“Oh, okay. Time well spent, then.”

“I think so,” Clara agreed. “How hungry are you?”

“Starving, actually,” Ashildr admitted. “Did we eat?”

“There’s some bread and fruit here. And some wine. Not enough to make any sort of proper meal, though. I thought if you’re up for it, we’d take a quick shower, then head into town to get some breakfast - and some supplies.”

“Sounds great.” Ashildr pushed herself up on one elbow, and as Clara threw back the bedsheet, she frowned at Clara’s slightly sunburnt skin. “You’re browner,” she allowed, and then regarded her own skin critically. “But I’m not. Did we sun ourselves yesterday?”

“We did, in accordance with your rules,” Clara assured her, getting to her feet.

Ashildr regarded herself with puzzlement. “But I’m still pale. Why am I pale?”

The realization suddenly struck her, and she groaned with dismay.

Clara frowned. “What is it? What?”

“Stupid, bloody Miretech!” Ashildr swore angrily. “It’s treating sunburn like skin damage!”

“Well, technically, that’s what sunburn is,” Clara had to admit.

“How am I ever supposed to get a tan if my body won’t let me?”

Clara started to giggle at Ashildr’s predicament.

“Stop it, Clara, it’s _not_ funny,” Ashildr protested.

“It kind of is,” Clara said, trying to stifle her giggles, but not quite succeeding. 

“Oh, this is just _great,”_ Ashildr fumed. “I wanted to get golden brown. All over. Instead of being stupid pale ice girl from ice land.”

“You are my _beautiful_ pale ice girl from Iceland,” Clara corrected her, holding out her hand to help Ashildr to her feet. “And I think I know how we can fix your problem.”

“How? By covering me head to toe with shoe polish?” Ashildr grunted, as Clara gently pulled her up. 

“I think we can be a little bit smarter than that,” Clara laughed. “Come on, let’s grab a shower, and go find something to eat. And then we can start making some plans - including, working on your perfect tan.”


	3. Chapter 3

“Where’s your hat?”

Clara turned to Ashildr. After a quick shower to clean themselves up, both women had dressed themselves in light sun frocks and sandals for their first trip into town, but Ashildr had no covering for her head - nor any sunglasses. 

“I... don’t have one,” Ashildr admitted.

“You didn’t bring a single hat with you? Not even one?” Clara asked incredulously.

“I didn’t think I’d need one,” Ashildr answered. 

Clara gave her a withering look. “Ashildr, you _always_ need a hat,” she remonstrated. “Especially you, with your pale skin. Here. You can borrow one of mine.”

Clara poked inside the downstairs closet, took out a spare sun bonnet, slightly smaller than her own, and handed it to Ashildr. 

“Put that on,” she ordered. 

“What’s the point?” Ashildr asked with a resigned sigh. “My Miretech is just going to erase any skin damage I get from the sun anyways.”

“The point is, you want to get a tan, and the way we do that is to limit your sun exposure,” Clara said. “I know it sounds counterintuitive. But you have the same problem I do - almost no pigment in your skin. I go from pale to burnt, just like that.” She snapped her fingers. “We want to fool your Miretech into letting your skin darken. So, we limit your exposure. Reduce the amount of possible skin damage, so your medical tech doesn’t get triggered. And maybe, just maybe, you get to keep tanning, a little bit at a time.”

“Does this mean I can’t sunbathe?”

“You can, but you have to do so sparingly. _Very_ sparingly.”

Ashildr groaned in dismay.

“Easy for you to say,” she protested. “Your bones aren’t a thousand years old. It feels _good_ to bake in the sun.”

“Hey, I’m just about a hundred,” Clara shot back. “I appreciate a good baking, trust me. The trick is, to bake your bones without frying your skin. And that reminds me.”

She took out a large tube of sunblock from her bag. “I brought this from the TARDIS,” she explained. “A little more up-to-date than whatever they are using in the 1970s. Here,” she handed the tube to Ashildr, who kept her arms at her sides.

“Apply it for me?” she asked.

“What, you can’t apply your own sunblock?”

“Sure I can. I’m just looking for an excuse to have you fondle me,” Ashildr grinned. 

Clara gave her a withering look, but dutifully began to apply the sunblock to Ashildr’s bare arms, gently massaging her skin as she did so. “You just like having someone wait on you hand and foot,” she grumbled.

“Actually, yes,” Ashildr admitted. “Yes, I do. After centuries of doing everything by and for myself, it’s rather nice to have someone making a fuss over me. But if it helps, I’ll do the same for you,” she offered with a sly grin. 

After the women had exchanged applications of sunblock, Clara gave Ashildr her spare pair of sunglasses. 

“Don’t lose those,” she warned. “They were hard enough to come by in 2013. They’re pretty much irreplaceable in any other time period.” She gathered up a large, empty shopping bag, folded it, and looped the handles around her purse straps.

“What are we looking for today?” Ashildr asked, as they stepped outside.

“Opportunities,” Clara answered with a grin.

The morning air was still cool, but the sun was already quite warm; it was going to be a scorcher of an afternoon. The two women looked down the narrow road and could see its gentle curve going down the hill, right into the heart of the marketplace, with the coastline as the backdrop. It was a beautiful sight, and they both paused to take it in. Clara smiled in satisfaction. 

“I’m assuming that apart from an occasional sandwich or frying an egg, neither of us wants to cook on this trip?”

“You assume correctly,” Ashildr answered emphatically. 

“Okay. Then we need to survey all the restaurants and their hours of operation. We also need some coffee. And some liquor.”

“We have wine,” Ashildr objected.

“Yes, but no hard liquor,” Clara pointed out. “I want to chill some fresh fruit in rum, or even tequila. Have an afternoon snack with a little buzz to it.”

As they began to walk down the road, they found the incline was surprisingly steep. 

“We’ll get quite the workout coming back up this hill,” Ashildr pointed out. 

“Yes, we will,” Clara agreed. “Or, we could be incredibly lazy, and get a taxi. I suppose it depends on how much stuff we end up lugging back today.”

“We probably should have arranged for a rental downhill from all the drinking establishments,” Ashildr grinned.

Clara frowned, trying to place the quote. “Oscar Wilde?” she guessed.

Ashildr made a helpless shrug. “No point asking me,” she answered. “I can’t remember.”

“You start using that excuse as a crutch, and I’ll _spank_ you,” Clara vowed.

“Don’t tempt me,” Ashildr retorted with a wicked smile. 

They quickly found a quiet restaurant with an outdoor patio serving breakfast, and settled themselves into chairs at a table with a wide sun umbrella. The waiter brought them ice water and menus, as well as a small carafe of coffee. He was a younger man, in his early twenties, and his interest in Clara was open and obvious. Clara was friendly and polite in return, but made a point of showing off her wedding ring, to cut short his flirtations. The young man politely refrained from further innuendo.

“Your husbands, will they be joining you?” the waiter asked.

Clara gave him a sweet smile. “We exhausted them last night, poor dears. I’ll have the chorizo plate, I think,” she said, giving her order and changing the subject at the same time.

“Of course. And for you?” the waiter turned to Ashildr. 

“Eggs, over easy,” Ashildr said, without looking at the menu. “And a bran muffin, if you have one. Thank you.”

The waiter made note of the orders and hurried away. 

“Did you just invent imaginary husbands for us?” Ashildr asked with a smile, once the young man was out of earshot.

Clara made a face. “I just got the sense that if we told him we were married to each other, he’d be even more interested,” she sighed. “I’m on my honeymoon. I want to spend my time with you. And as little time as possible fending off unwanted suitors.”

“Well, you _are_ the glamorous one,” Ashildr pointed out. 

_”I’m_ the glamorous one?” Clara was surprised at Ashildr’s remark - but not displeased.

“I think so,” Ashildr said with a smile. “Besides, I always look slightly underage. Which isn’t always helpful. But still, it does make me less of a target. Most of the time.”

“I’m not even sure I want to ask about the men who are interested in an underage girl,” Clara shuddered. 

“Let’s just say, I got very good at convincing such loathsome persons the error of their ways,” Ashildr said quietly. For a moment, her expression darkened. 

Clara said nothing, but silently poured coffee for them both, along with a little cream in each cup. Ashildr had alluded in the past to having been raped several times early in her life - before she had learned how to defend herself. Clara was certain that several would-be assailants had likely met a gruesome fate, had they been foolish enough to attempt to force themselves on Ashildr. Clara had to remind herself, Ashildr had at least two previous marriages that were loving, and life-long, so not all the men she’d encountered had been monsters.

“I suppose I should ask, if you want to visit any of the nightclubs while we’re here,” Clara suggested after a time. 

“I don’t know,” Ashildr answered. “Like you said. I’m not here to collect lovers, I already have one. And I suspect even if we presented ourselves as a couple, I doubt the boys would leave us alone. I won’t rule it out. But let’s sit on it for now.”

“Well, and in fairness, the dance crazes haven’t really started yet,” Clara admitted. “Disco is still six or seven years away. And some of the synth stuff you like doesn’t come along for another thirty or forty years.”

“So, why this era then?”

Clara shrugged. “Fewer predators,” she admitted. “We’re sort of in the ‘first wave’ of younger people to start visiting this area in large numbers. Not quite as many sharks in the water yet. And the drug of choice is still alcohol. I know my limits with wine, or a bottle of rum. I’d just rather not be around to deal with the cocaine, or other drugs.”

“Surely that stuff’s always been around,” Ashildr pointed out.

“No doubt,” Clara agreed. “But it’s not prevalent. Yet.” She frowned. “This is way too serious a topic for a honeymoon. Let’s talk about something else.”

“Swimming naked,” Ashildr declared immediately.

Clara grinned. “Excellent topic.”

“Before we visit the marketplace, let’s stop by the docks,” Ashildr suggested. “See if any of the captains can point us to a secluded beach - and maybe arrange to take us there one morning, before the crowds gather.”

“I thought you wanted to swim naked in the middle of the ocean somewhere.”

“That, too,” Ashildr nodded. “But that trip, we likely won’t have to arrange in advance.”

“Suppose we find someone able to take us out this morning, you still want to? Or do you want to shop first?”

“That’s tempting,” Ashildr admitted. “Let’s see what turns up. You can do the talking, but let me pick the boat.”

“Why? Do you have a specific type of ship in mind?”

“No. But I’ll be able to tell at a glance, if the captain takes good care of his vessel or not.”

“Let me guess. You were a sea captain in a previous life,” Clara grinned.

“As a matter of fact, I was,” Ashildr answered. “I’ve spent two or three lifetimes at sea.”

“You’ve never mentioned that before.”

Ashildr shrugged. “It wasn’t the best time of my life,” she admitted finally. “I mean, being at sea, there was nothing like it. _That_ was awesome. But I was going through a dark time in those days. I still remember a lot of that time. And a lot of what I remember... isn’t very nice.”

“Well, then, there’s really only one solution, isn’t there?” Clara said. “We just need to create some new, happy memories for you. Some time spent at sea, when you’re at you’re at your best, instead of your worst.”

Ashildr smiled, a sad, somber smile, and she reached across the table to clasp Clara’s hand. 

“I love you, Clara Oswald,” she declared solemnly.

“I love you, Ashildr,” Clara answered. “With all my heart.”


	4. Chapter 4

When their food arrived, Clara and Ashildr tucked into their meals with great gusto. While neither was fond of a heavy breakfast, they’d hardly eaten anything the day before, and they were ravenous.

“Well... maybe we’ll just have to sleep it off with a morning nap,” Clara said with a resigned smile. 

As they ate, Clara kept pausing between bites, frowning as if in puzzlement. Ashildr noticed her doing this several times and finally asked, “Is there something wrong with your food?”

“No, no, it’s fine,” Clara answered. “Listen.”

Ashildr put down her fork, and for a few moments, paid closer attention to the sounds all around them. Several couples and families at the nearby tables were talking and laughing, if they weren’t eating. Intermittent cries of seabirds could be heard. There was a faint rumble of traffic on the street, but nothing unusual, nor unusually loud.

“Okay,” Ashildr asked. “What am I listening for?”

“Listen to everyone talking,” Clara said.

So Ashildr began to pay closer attention to the conversations. After a moment, her eyes widened. Several of the groups of diners were speaking in different languages - Ashildr was certain she could hear French, English, and at least two distinct variants of Spanish - and yet, everyone was speaking the language she understood - her own.

“Okay, that’s... weird,” she allowed.

“Isn’t it?” Clara grinned. “The TARDIS telepathic circuit must be working overtime. I’m hearing at least four different languages being spoken, and I can differentiate each language from the others, and yet... everyone’s speaking my language. That is cool.”

They resumed eating, and when they finally came up for air, Clara sighed with great happiness. 

“This is awesome,” she declared. “But I suppose we need to make an executive decision about whether we’re shopping this morning, or shipping.”

“Well, most of the shops close up shortly after noon, right?” Ashildr said. “And we do need some supplies. There’s still a chance we could find a boat if we visit the docks in late morning, or even early afternoon. But our window for opportunity on shopping is narrower. So we should probably do that first. Also, that will give us the chance to walk off our meal.”

Clara agreed, and the two women spent the rest of the morning poking around in the various shops. Despite having other items high on the list of needful things, Clara dragged them both into every clothing boutique she could find, looking for new outfits for Ashildr - especially ones that would bare her midriff. Ashildr made faces, but allowed Clara to indulge herself.

“What is it with you and my navel, anyway?” Ashildr ruffed irritably at one point. 

“Why, got a problem with showing some skin?” Clara bantered.

Ashildr shrugged. “It just seems like an odd bit of anatomy to fixate on. You’re always rubbing my belly, like I’m a laughing Buddha, or something.”

“Some people like legs, some like ass, some even love feet,” Clara answered. “I happen to like belly buttons. Especially yours.”

“You are _weird,_ Mrs. Oswald,” Ashildr declared emphatically.

“I’m _not,”_ Clara protested. “It’s not like I’m asking you to do any weird fetish things. Just want to see you wearing a little less, that’s all. Do you really not like me rubbing your stomach?”

“I am always in favor of being fondled by you,” Ashildr clarified. “Just don’t stop with caresses. You can throw some extra kisses in there, too. Even some tickles - if you use them sparingly.”

“I’ll make sure we take care of that,” Clara promised solemnly.

The women ended up taking a taxi back to the bungalow, owing to the fact they actually acquired a great deal of items on their first shopping trip - in addition to some groceries, they had several new outfits for Ashildr, including a new wide-brimmed sun hat, two bottles of rum, a bottle of vodka and a fairly impressive sized decanter filled with tequila. 

“Well, so much for just window shopping,” Ashildr shook her head at all the bags of items scattered around them on the kitchen and living room floors. “As far as look, don’t buy, this was an epic fail.”

“We can be a little more selective in the future,” Clara agreed, putting the liquor bottles on the counter. 

Ashildr looked at the bottles and snorted a laugh. “I could drink both of those in one sitting, and maybe get a buzz for ten minutes.”

“Yes, well, I have other plans for this,” Clara answered. “We’ll cut up some melon and strawberries, and let them chill in the icebox with some rum, and some crushed mint. You should still be able to enjoy the flavor. There’s also a blender in the kitchen, so we can try making some spiked fruit smoothies. Or the perfect strawberry margarita.”

By the time they had cleared everything away, it was just past one in the afternoon. Neither felt sleepy, or even remotely hungry, so they decided to stroll down to the docks, even though almost certainly all the tourist boats would already be on the water with their charters for the day. 

As luck would have it, though, one of the larger charter companies still had one medium-sized sailboat at the dock, and the family’s youngest son, a lanky boy just barely nineteen, agreed to take the two women out for a quick trip around the bay. 

The air was hot, but there was still just enough breeze to tease the sails, and after some pleading, Ashildr took charge of the boat, steering them expertly towards the open sea.

“You _have_ sailed before,” the young man said, with obvious admiration - and equal amounts of relief.

“I’ve been sailing centuries before you were born,” Ashildr told him, and the young man burst out laughing, thinking Ashildr had made a mistake choosing the word “centuries”.

Once they arrived in open waters, Ashildr returned control of the boat to its proper owner. The sea wasn’t flat, but neither was it especially rough. Ashildr had been gauging it carefully ever since they had departed the dock, and decided it was calm enough to risk a brief swim. Without any explanation or warning, she stood up, kicked off her sandals, shrugged herself out of her sundress - she was wearing nothing underneath - and executed a perfect standing dive into the water. Not only did Ashildr barely make a splash, she dived without so much as rocking the boat. The young man could only gawk in amazement. He was obviously intending to tell her she couldn’t do such a dangerous thing, when she already had. But it was obvious after even only a few moments that Ashildr was a strong and very experienced swimmer, and he relaxed. Somewhat.

Clara gave him a sympathetic smile. “Sorry,” she said, standing up. “But where the wife goes, I have to follow.” 

Clara likewise shrugged herself out of her clothes, although she wasn’t nearly as elegant, basically falling off the side of the boat into the water. Ashildr quickly swam alongside to make sure Clara was not in any distress, and then they swam around in the water together, shrieking and laughing. 

The young man pulled out a pack of cigarettes and lit one, shaking his head. “These English tourists,” he muttered to himself. “They get crazier every year!”

* * * 

Ashildr took a deep breath, and opened her eyes. 

It was morning, she could sense that much. She could see sunlight, and feel a cool sea breeze, streaming in from the open patio door. The room was still fairly dark, as the heavy curtains had been drawn across all the other windows. 

She rolled up onto one elbow. Clara was watching her, as she often did in the mornings, watching her sleep. Clara smiled. Ashildr smiled back, and snuggled close to Clara, sighing with contentment.

Clara wasn’t unhappy at this reaction, but she was a bit surprised. Usually, Ashildr awoke confused and disoriented. But apparently, not today. 

“Good morning,” she murmured quietly.

“Morning,” Ashildr half-mumbled, nuzzling her face in Clara’s breasts. Apparently this waking action too was about to become habitual. 

“You make a nice pillow,” Ashildr said, and the slight slur in her words indicated she was still halfway between sleeping and waking. 

Clara wanted to ask if Ashildr knew where she was, or if she even remembered what had happened yesterday. She likely already knew the answer to those questions. There was really only one question to which she didn’t have a ready answer, so she chose to ask that. 

“Don’t you need your notebook?”

“I’ll read it in a few minutes,” Ashildr answered, eyes closed, contentedly pressing her cheek to Clara’s breast. 

“Does that mean... you remember?” Clara asked hopefully. 

Ashildr sighed again, eyes still closed. “You’re here,” she said simply. “That’s all I really need to know.”

Clara hugged Ashildr and closed her eyes again, a contented smile on her face. Ashildr might still have memory issues, but at least she was no longer waking confused or afraid. That in and of itself was cause enough to celebrate. And it also told Clara they had made the right choice: slowing down was going to help Ashildr. A lot. The days of traveling “Doctor Style” were about to come to an end. So, really, the only question that remained was, where to settle down? Or at least, where to settle down first? 

As Clara began to make a mental list of places and times, she drifted off to sleep again, Ashildr dozing happily in her arms. 

* * * 

The days passed.

Every morning, Ashildr would go to her chalkboard, and reduce the number of days remaining by one. Then, she and Clara would sit together over coffee, and decide what to do with the day. Their routine varied slightly, but mostly their activities revolved around swimming, sailing, sunning and shopping - and, as befitting a pair of newlyweds, most of their afternoons were spent in slow, unhurried lovemaking, as the two women learned how best to please and enjoy one another. They took long walks along beaches and through the town, in the mornings and early evenings, always holding hands, always presenting themselves to the world as a couple. And the world didn’t seem to mind at all. 

They also began to discuss, hesitantly at first, but with growing enthusiasm, when and where to call “home”. They had all of space and time to choose from, and then of course there were the discussions of how long could they reasonably assume to stay in one place. 

They both decided Earth was home, which narrowed the field somewhat. But even in the history of the planet, there was still a wide variety of cultures and times and places to consider. They decided to limit the list further by selecting only from places they already knew well - usually, somewhere they’d lived before, in their personal past.

Even so, other issues and concerns arose: how would they live? Would they work? Have careers? Adopt children? These were questions that weren’t answered easily or quickly, and Clara began to see part of the reason why The Doctor often traveled as he did - planning a future was incredibly difficult, even when you could see the future. But Clara hadn’t taken her wedding vows lightly. If it came to that, wherever Ashildr would lead, Clara would follow. And Clara wanted that life where Ashildr awoke each morning knowing where she was, and at least to some extent, remembering where she’d left off from the day before. That was something worth sacrificing for.

At least two goals were definitely reached during their stay in Ibiza. Clara learned how to make the perfect strawberry margarita. And after many false starts, Ishildr finally managed to obtain her perfect tan.

Ishildr and Clara also managed to complete a nude roll in the surf on a deserted beach one breezy morning, but, sneaker waves kept washing over them, leaving them choking and gasping and spitting out brackish sea water. As Clara commented afterwards, the idea of making love in the surf was far more arousing than the actual event. Still, Ashildr was quite accustomed to accidentally swallowing seawater, and she still considered it an item successfully checked off her list. And the memory - which she kept - always made her smile, whenever she thought of it. 

* * * 

Dave Oswald was, to borrow the phrase, carrying on. After his beloved wife Ellie had died, he kept matters well in hand. Although his own heart was breaking, he still had a daughter who badly needed him - especially as she was due to start at university in the fall. Those first few years were rough for them both, but somehow, they survived. Clara dutifully took her classes, Dave went back to work, even though neither of them had their hearts in their tasks; and slowly, ever so slowly, they began to mend their fractured lives. But in what seemed like an eye blink, Dave had seen his little girl graduate, and then become a proper teacher, and he couldn’t possibly be more proud. 

Once she’d started work of her own, Dave saw less and less of his daughter. That was to be expected, of course. She would always manage to pop in at unexpected times, and even if the timing of the visits was a little irregular, one thing was clear: Clara loved her father, with all her heart, and took great pains to make sure he knew that, every time she came to visit.

It had been some time now since Dave had last seen his little girl. He’d gotten the odd text message now and then, but an actual visit - it had been a while. So he was overjoyed to come home from work that afternoon, and find his daughter waiting for him in the kitchen. 

“Clara! Oh, sweetheart, it’s so good to see you!” Dave rushed to his daughter and hugged her fiercely. He held her in both arms and looked her over appraisingly. “You’re as brown as a nut,” he declared. “You look like you’ve spent a month on a tropical island.”

“Not quite,” Clara giggled. “But close enough.”

Dave fell silent, though, the moment he saw the ring on her finger. “Ohh...”

Clara tried her best to keep her voice and her hands steady. “Dad, there’s someone I want you to meet.”

She gestured to the corner of the room. Ashildr came forward, shyly, smiling. 

“Dad, this is Ashildr. Ashildr, this is my father.”

Ashildr held out her hand. “Mr. Oswald. It’s so nice to finally meet you.”

Dave took the young woman’s hand in his. He immediately grasped to whom he was being introduced. 

“Ahh. Not just a friend from work, I take it.”

Clara shook her head. “No, Dad. We’re married.”

“Married,” Dave repeated numbly, and then his face lit up with a bewildered smile. “Well, Ashildr, is it? Ashildr, it’s so nice to meet you.” He gave her a warm, welcoming hug. “I think I should like to hear all about this.”

They settled themselves in the living room. Clara and Ashildr had decided before arriving, however outré the truth, they were not going to cover the recent events of Clara’s life with a paper of lies. Clara had run that gamut many times before, and never once had it worked. And while the story Clara told her father was a breathtakingly abbreviated one, it was essentially the truth: she told him all about her time spent with the Maitlands, meeting The Doctor, meeting Ashildr, everything - save for the events on the trap street. That was a tragedy for another day. Somewhat surprisingly, Dave took the entire story - even with its less-credible elements - at face value. 

“I’ve met this bloke,” he snorted. “The Doctor. And more than once. At least one time I remember, when you were very young. He seemed pleasant enough, but he was a little... off.”

“Well, I did hit him in the head with a soccer ball,” Clara admitted.

“And wasn’t he the fellow who came to dinner that one time, stark -”

“Yes, yes, that was him,” Clara cut in quickly, and she sighed heavily. “I know this all sounds ridiculous, but...”

“Oh, no, sweetheart. It explains a lot,” Dave assured her. “There were obviously things going on in your life, things you couldn’t talk about. I’m so very glad you decided you could tell me now. It has put my heart at ease on a great many issues, I promise.”

This time, Clara’s sigh was one of relief. “Oh, Dad. I’m so glad to hear that. I wanted to tell you for the longest time, really, I did. And I just couldn’t. It was all so... I don’t know. Round the bend. I lived through it, and I still hardly believe it.”

Ashildr looked from one to the other with a knowing smile.

“Mr. Oswald, I think perhaps you’d like a private moment with your daughter? In which case, I can go into the kitchen, and pretend to make tea for twenty minutes or so.”

Dave Oswald smiled gratefully at her. “Ahh. Not just a time traveler. A mind reader as well. Thank you, Ashildr. Yes. I would like a moment alone with Clara, if that’s not too much trouble.”

“Not at all.” Ashildr got up. 

“And please, call me Dave. Or even Dad, if you like. You’re family now.”

Ashildr found herself blinking back unexpected tears. “Thank you. Dad. I’m, ahh, going to pretend I’ve forgotten how to make tea, or something.”

She turned and headed for the kitchen at the far end of the house.

“Beautiful, and smart. You’ve married well,” Dave Oswald informed his daughter.

Clara smiled. “I like to think so. Yes.”

“Please tell me you didn’t elope because you were worried I wouldn’t approve.”

“Oh, dad, no, no, it was nothing like that, really. Our marriage was kind of a spur of the moment thing - and honestly, had we been closer to Earth, we likely would have come and collected you.” She paused. “Dad... there’s something else I need to tell you. Something... I’m not sure I can.”

“What is it, sweetheart?”

“I’m sort of breaking the rules of time travel by being here. But it was important to me that I got to see you, to let you know I’m going to be okay. Even if I have to... disappear... for a while.”

“Something’s happened, hasn’t it? Or rather, something’s about to happen.”

Clara was still surprised at how insightful her father could be at times. “Please, dad, don’t ask me any more, I’m begging you.”

Dave Oswald gave his daughter a sad smile. “I’m so very glad you came to visit me, Clara,” he said simply. “And I’m so happy you’ve found someone to share your life with.”

Clara flung herself into her father’s arms, holding him tight, and wept. “I just want you to know, I’m okay,” she choked out the words. “And I love you, dad, I love you so much.”

“I love you too, Clara. With all my heart.”

* * * 

Some time later, Clara found herself back in the TARDIS. The visit with her father had gone surprisingly well - but like many such events, she felt utterly taken out of time while she was with him, even for someone with as much experience in time travel as she had. 

Ashildr was busying herself at the console, programming a flight path. 

“Your father is a very sweet man,” she said. “I wouldn’t mind seeing him again. We can easily arrange a few more visits, before trap street day. If you like.”

Clara didn’t answer. She stared at the console for a long moment, like she’d never seen it before. 

“If you want to see him even after the day, I have no problem with that, either. I’ll support whatever decision you make.”

“Thank you.” Clara’s voice was barely audible. 

“We could visit your mum, too, you know,” Ashildr suggested quietly.

Clara looked up from the console. She was smiling, but her eyes were brimming with tears.

“There’s nothing in the world I want more,” she admitted, in a voice barely above a whisper. “And I dare not do it. I can’t. It would shatter me.”

Ashildr nodded in silent sympathy. She understood that feeling only too well.

“Then, there’s just one other detail we need to take care of.”

“What’s that?” Clara asked, discreetly wiping her eyes.

“We need to configure a new bedroom suite, for the two of us. With a walk-in bathtub. I want to take a long, hot bubble bath with my wife tonight. With at least two bottles of wine.”

“That sounds wonderful,” Clara agreed.

She walked over to where Ashildr was standing, and hugged her fiercely.

“I love you, Ashildr. My beautiful, indestructible girl. I love you so much.”

“And I love you, Clara. My impossible girl.” She nodded towards the controls. “Coordinates are set. If you’d like to do the honors.”

“Where are we going?”

“The lake house. Unless you’d rather somewhere else.”

“The lake house sounds like a wonderful place to start,” Clara agreed. She reached over, still cradling Ashildr in one arm, and threw the lever to begin the ship’s dematerialization. 

A moment later, the TARDIS vanished from sight, leaving behind only a slight gust of wind, and with it a displaced leaf, floating serenely through the air.


End file.
